


Realpolitik

by chuusei_teki_na_koe



Category: Final Fantasy XIII Series
Genre: Angst, Everyone is a workaholic and nobody gets to be happy, Fraternization, Grief/Mourning, Idealism and shattered dreams, M/M, Military Politics and Falling in Love with your Superior Officer, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 18:16:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29937447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chuusei_teki_na_koe/pseuds/chuusei_teki_na_koe
Summary: Soon after convincing Rygdea to join the Cavalry, Raines begins inviting him over for bi-weekly chess.It seems his commanding officer is trying to win his trust. Too bad for him, Rygdea doesn't trust anyone—especially not those in positions of power. Raines should have chosen someone else to be his right-hand man.
Relationships: Cid Raines/Rygdea
Kudos: 1





	Realpolitik

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this fic a couple years ago and just recently dredged it up because watching Gundam rekindled the flames of my military fetish. I'm glad I could finally get it out, even though it's a rarepair for a fairly dead fandom.
> 
> This fic draws from the spinoff novels Episode Promise and Fragments Before (specifically the chapters “Search” and “Fair and Foul.”) It's not necessary to have read them, but it helps. (Also the books just flesh out the story really nicely, as well as Rygdea's character in general.)

When Raines had first roped Rygdea into joining the Cavalry, Rygdea had basically known nothing about him. Raines' reputation was spotless, and he was well-known for being highly competent in all areas, charismatic, tall, good-looking, and generally perfect. Of course, this was exactly what made Rygdea very deeply suspicious of him. No one was actually _that_ perfect, least of all someone in a position of high command in the military. If his reputation was perfection, that just meant he had to be good at hiding skeletons.

So when Raines invited Rygdea to his personal residence out of the blue, Rygdea's initial assumptions were conspiracy, bribery, or possibly something sexual. Rygdea's preference would be for the latter—Raines had buttered him up with some really nice, sincere-sounding speeches about his ideals, and while Rygdea half-expected him to be actually complete scum, he really hoped that Raines was everything he seemed to be. And Rygdea would rather learn he was literally in bed with half the military than figuratively in bed with half the parliament. And, well, Raines was handsome enough. If he wanted to abuse his authority to sexual ends, there were plenty of men and women who would willingly suck that no-doubt perfect cock, and Rygdea wouldn't deny he was one of them. He was just curious, mostly.

But to his surprise, when Rygdea came over to Raines' surprisingly modest residence, all that was waiting for him was an expensive-looking marble table with a chessboard carved onto the surface, topped with fancy glass pieces.

“I don't know how to play chess,” Rygdea confessed as strolled around Raines' apartment. He belatedly realized he was tracking dirt all over Raines' spotlessly clean floors, but Raines never asked him to take off his shoes. Well, might as well keep them on, then.

“Then I'll teach you,” Raines said smoothly from the kitchen. “Coffee or tea?”

“...Coffee. Black.” Rygdea looked around the place. It was spacious, well-lit, and in a very expensive location, but definitely less than someone in Raines' position could afford. It was barren in the way of a display room in a furniture store, all clean white surfaces and spotless furniture, with a great bay window on one side. There was a firmly closed door to the right. It was clear that Raines lived alone, and also that he didn't spend much time at home. This was the apartment of a man who was married to his job.

Places like this always made Rygdea feel just a little bit sick, to tell the truth. He'd done his fair share of work guarding the rich and powerful. He knew the scent of pseudo-restrained wealth, the little things other rich people would notice and evaluate. Maybe this apartment wasn't as bad as many places Rygdea had seen, maybe Raines had some moral backbone, but he was still one of them, and this place screamed to Rygdea, _you don't belong here._

But regardless, Rygdea sat down on the black side of the chessboard and waited as Raines brought them both plain white mugs—one full of coffee for Rygdea, and one for himself that seemed to be tea.

“You've already made your first mistake,” Raines said as he sat down opposite Rygdea and took a sip from his mug. It was strange to see him out of uniform—he was just wearing a simple dress shirt and slacks, but he made them look classy. His clean shave, trimmed hair and generally crisp grooming made Rygdea suddenly self-conscious. He resisted the urge to lean his nose over into his own armpit to check if he smelled. Rygdea would shower after a work-out, but other times, he generally forgot. His beard was probably equally unkempt. Rygdea ran a hand over his jaw. Yep.

“White moves first,” Raines continued, “so it always has a slight advantage. We can switch sides, if you like.”

“Nah. I'm not gonna win my first game anyway. And I don't mind playing at a disadvantage.” Rygdea adopted a deliberately casual seated posture to counter Raines' rod-straight back. The guy always sat like he had a stick up his ass.

Raines raised an eyebrow, but didn't say anything. He explained the rules, and they got started on their first game.

“I've never much been one for strategy games,” Rygdea said as Raines scanned the pieces. Even against a total amateur, he seemed to be carefully considering his moves. “I can play a mean hand of poker, though.”

“I don't like poker,” Raines said in his usual, dispassionate tone as he moved a pawn ahead two squares. “Too much comes down to chance.”

“That's kinda the point.” Rygdea looked over his pieces, mentally reviewing how each one was supposed to move. “You deal with what you get. You don't have to worry about all these fancy rules. You just walk in prepared to win, no matter what your hand.” He made his move. “These ones go diagonal, right?”

“That's right.” Raines smiled at him, and Rygdea was rather taken off-guard. Raines was usually so serious, smiles looked out of place on his face. “An interesting mindset. But rather lacking in strategy.”

“I'm no good at strategy, anyway. I'm a simple guy.”

“...That remains to be seen.”

They played the rest of the game largely in silence, and of course, Raines won easily.

“Well, that's that.” Rygdea leaned back in his seat, tried to take a swig from his mug, and found it empty. “Hope I didn't bore you too hard.”

“Not at all,” Raines said, and Rygdea had no idea how sincere he was. Raines was so hard to read, it made Rygdea uncomfortable. “You did rather well, for a beginner. And it's always interesting seeing how someone unfamiliar with the game plays.”

Rygdea didn't know what to say to that, so he just stood from his seat. “It's getting late. I don't want to be taking up too much of your time. Sir. Commodore.” Usually, Rygdea was better with formality, but he'd found himself letting it slide in this casual setting.

“You can just call me Raines, when we're in private,” Raines said as he stood as well, clearing away the pieces into a wooden box.

For an instant, Rygdea thought Raines was hitting on him. But Raines' manner was too distant to even be called friendly, and he wasn't even smiling. It seemed he simply sincerely found the formality tiresome. It wasn't like he was suggesting they operate on a first-name basis. Maybe Rygdea was just overthinking this because of his own attraction. Probably. Well, who wouldn't be into an Adonis like Raines? Rygdea had eyes. He appreciated a pretty sight.

“Yeah, sure. Raines.” That felt awkward, all right. Rygdea had somewhat forgotten the strangeness of the situation while they'd been playing chess, but as Raines escorted him to the door, he stiffened up again. There had been no talk of anything political, Raines had kept his pants on. Nothing had happened. Why had Raines invited him over?

Rygdea was just opening his mouth to ask when Raines beat him to the punch. “I enjoyed our game. I hope you'll play chess with me again, when you have the time.”

Rygdea blinked at him. “Yeah. Sure,” he said again, rather dumbly. His automatic assumption was that was just Raines being polite, and that there would not be a second time.

Raines smiled at him again. “Great. I'll see you in two weeks at the same time.”

And then Rygdea was standing out in front of the closed door of Raines' apartment, wondering just what the hell he'd gotten himself into.

x x x

After that, Raines would invite him over for chess every two weeks at the same time, like clockwork. If Raines couldn't make it for some reason or another (he was a busy man, after all), he would always contact Rygdea well in advance to reschedule.

Over chess, they would talk—about all sorts of things. Raines' plans, the Cavalry and PSICOM, Edenhall and the government and politics, and about various important figures—and about the fal'Cie. Rygdea was immediately struck by what a thorough, nuanced grasp Raines had on all the structures that made up Cocoon, and found himself listening more often than talking, and he came away from every session with things to mull on.

Perhaps that was why even if he thought about turning down these sessions, he never could bring himself to. It wasn't like he had a buzzing social life, anyway. He'd drifted away from his old colleagues since transferring to the Cavalry, and had yet to really settle into his new position. He had plenty of casual acquaintances and old friends from the officer training, sure, but nobody he was really close with. He often found himself at loose ends when he wasn't on duty. So this would give him something to do, at least.

On the inside, Rygdea didn't have the most respect in the world for hierarchical structures or military authority, but he did act somewhat reserved in front of his commanding officers (or he tried to most of the time, anyway), and was admittedly intimidated by someone of Raines' rank. It wasn't until their third session that he could bring himself to be blunt and ask the question he'd been dying to ask.

“What's this about?” Rygdea asked over the table. He was sitting in front of the black side of the chess board, as had quickly become his habit. It was probably just stubbornness. He didn't want to admit he needed a handicap, even if it was obvious to both of them. “Why do you keep inviting me over? If you wanted a chess partner, you could find about a million people better than me.”

Raines leaned his chin on his hand, elbow on the table, as he looked down at the pieces on the board. His long lashes hung over his eyes, and his fingers rubbed against his bottom lip, his index finger dipping into his mouth occasionally as he considered his move. If this were anyone else, Rygdea would have thought this was deliberate flirting, but he had come to realize that Raines was either incredibly dense or positively asexual. Probably both. He didn't have a flirtatious bone in his body. Rygdea had made a few joking remarks, just to test the waters, and Raines' response had been to ignore it completely, if he'd even noticed at all. That just made this all the more baffling. If not sex, then what?

“What if I just want to make friends?” Raines replied, blank in both expression and tone as he made his move.

Rygdea was at a loss for a reply. Was Raines being sincere? His face was blank as ever. “You've got to be kidding me.” Rygdea moved a knight into position, threatening Raines' rook.

“Am I?” Raines defended his rook with a bishop while simultaneously forcing a fork: Rygdea would have to sacrifice his own bishop or his knight.

Rygdea's eyes flicked between Raines' face and the pieces on the board. “Are you...joking? Is this a joke?” This was a legitimate question. He had no clue. Rygdea sacrificed his knight to defend the bishop.

“You tell me,” Raines said, and Rygdea only became even more baffled as Raines' long fingers plucked Rygdea's knight off the board and to the side. “Tell me why you think I've invited you here.”

Rygdea's eyes narrowed. This was either teasing, or a test. Maybe both. He examined Raines' face yet again, but found nothing. Raines had the most brutal poker faces Rygdea had ever seen on a man, to the point where Rygdea started to doubt if he even was human at all.

“Well,” Rygdea began slowly. “I thought at first you were calling me over for some sort of dirty business. But we just keep playing chess.” Raines was just sitting there, chin resting in his hand, eyes fixed intently on Rygdea. “...I get the impression you're trying to win my trust.”

Raines raised his chin off his hand, dropping his elbow off the table, and smiled a little. “You're not wrong.”

The way he said that, it implied there was more to it. Like Rygdea was only partially right. “Why me, though?”

“Make your move,” Raines reminded him, and Rygdea hurriedly moved something appropriate. “Like I told you before,” Raines continued. “I think you're talented. And we're alike.”

Rygdea laughed out loud, leaning back in his chair. “Me? The academy washout? Like you, top of his class, youngest Commodore in history, and all-round perfect human being?”

The little smile vanished from Raines' face. “I'm not at all perfect. And you underrate yourself.” His frown deepened. “You're not incapable. You just need the right environment.”

Rygdea sat up straighter. “And you think the Cavalry is the right environment for me.”

“I do. Don't you?”

Rygdea couldn't deny that he liked the way Raines ran things. He liked the way Raines talked. He wanted to trust Raines. He wanted to believe there were men like that in the world. But the more rational part of his brain whispered to him that there was a catch. There was always a catch.

“ _If_ you're everything you claim to be, then it's perfect.”

Raines leveled that piercing gaze of his on Rygdea, and Rygdea was forced to suppress a shiver. Raines was so good at emitting pure _aura_ , and Rygdea couldn't get used to it. “What must I do to get you to trust me?”

Rygdea considered a minute, made his move, and then looked up at Raines again. “Nothing. There's nothing you can do.”

The look Raines gave him in reply was as blank and unreadable as ever. “...I suppose that's not necessarily a bad thing.”

As usual, Raines won their game. But Rygdea managed to capture more pieces than usual.

Before Rygdea left, though, nature decided to call, so he wandered over to that closed door to the right that he assumed was the bathroom, saying, “Mind if I take a piss before I go?”

But Raines' hand slapped down over his wrist before he could press the opening panel. “That's the master bedroom. The bathroom door is over there.” He pointed up toward the door right by the entranceway.

“...Yeah,” Rygdea replied, resisting the urge to rub the warm spot where Raines' hand had been, then turned away to head to the bathroom.

x x x

Most people's reaction to a promotion was probably not to call up their superior officer on their personal line to chew them out for it, but Rygdea wasn't most people. The fact that he even knew Raines' personal number was already out of bounds, but he was trying not to think about that.

“What the fuck is this supposed to be about?” Rygdea snapped into his phone as he strode down the hallway of the ship that had been recently assigned to him. It was comparatively wide—this ship was big, and it wasn't the only one he was in charge of, now.

Despite the blatant insubordination of Rygdea's manner, however, Raines just chuckled. “I figured you might react like this.” He sounded amused, which just irritated Rygdea further. He didn't like to think he could be read so easily.

“That doesn't answer my question,” Rygdea replied, just barely restraining the urge to swear again.

“We'll discuss it this evening,” Raines said, and he hung up before Rygdea could complain any further.

x x x

One thing Rygdea could appreciate about Raines was that he didn't waste time. You probably had to be like that to rise through the ranks as quickly as he had. He was brutally efficient in everything he did, and that included conversation. He got straight to the point.

“I suppose you see your promotion as favoritism,” Raines said as he sat down at the white side at his chess table, pulling the pieces out to arrange them on the board in the position they'd been in the last time, when they'd been interrupted mid-game when Raines had been forced to rush out to handle some matter or another. Raines had the mind-blowing ability to memorize an entire board and lay the whole thing out again later—when Rygdea had accused him of being a “fucking genius,” Raines had quietly shaken his head and said, “No, it's a learned skill. You could do it as well, if you put in the effort.”

“Isn't it?” Rygdea shot back with a scowl as he plopped himself down on the chair opposite Raines.

“I would like to believe that it's not,” Raines said with a frown, one hand rising to rub his chin, his eyes lowered to the board. “I did look carefully over your service records, as well as your history from the academy, and made the decision to promote you based on that information.”

Rygdea shot Raines a sharp look across the board. “If you've seen my service records and my history from the Academy, then why don't you tell me just how many times it says the words _insubordination?_ ”

Raines looked up at him, his mouth spreading into a surprisingly full-faced smile that even showed teeth, hand moving across the board as he spoke. “As I just said, I made the decision to promote you based on that information.”

Rygdea was struck silent for a moment, the little hamster wheels of his brain spinning as his hand moved on its own to make his move.

“It's very easy to surround yourself with yes-men,” Raines continued. “Political climbers who will say whatever you like to hear in order to improve their own position. ...I've seen even good men be swayed, in that sort of environment. I'd like to have a man under me who will be willing to call me up on my personal number and ask me _what the fuck is this about?_ ”

Somehow, coming out of Raines' lips, even that curse sounded prim and proper, and Rygdea felt himself flushing slightly in embarrassment—or possibly it was because his mind had just inserted its own double-meaning into “I'd like to have a man under me.” Damn, he really needed to get laid, he was getting bad, lately.

“...Hmm,” was all Rygdea replied, eyes down on the board, but he wasn't really paying attention to the game, and the two of them continued in silence for a while.

“...I make every effort to be impartial,” Raines said after a long silence. “Even with those with whom I...have personal ties. I will and have made arrests that were personally upsetting to me. I see it as paramount that I should operate on a code of ethics that goes beyond personal gain or attachment.”

Rygdea's eyes flicked up at his superior. Raines was dancing around the details, and Rygdea didn't expect he would say more than that. Neither was Rygdea interested in his personal stories. Anyone could use some sob story as a manipulation tactic, to gain sympathy—in fact, Rygdea had rather more respect for Raines, if he was the sort of guy who would keep those kinds of details close to his chest.

Though it was pretty hard to imagine Raines getting emotional about anything. The man was an absolute stone statue. “You? Upset?” Rygdea said with a sardonic smile.

A little smile came to Raines' lips. “I recognize how I may come across, but we're all human, Rygdea. The trick to managing your emotions is not to deny you have them, but to recognize them, accept them and the information they present, and analyze them from another place in your mind. Denial will only lead to mistakes.”

Rygdea picked up a discarded pawn from his side of the table, toying with it in his fingers. “Damn. You really are flawless in every area, huh.”

Raines' smile faded. “Nobody is perfect.” He was silent for a while longer before saying, “Your records tell a certain story, depending on who may be reading. The story I saw was one of a man of firm character and idealistic nature, who refuses to bend to authority. Your test scores at the academy were always excellent. Your men respect you. You shouldn't underrate yourself.”

Yet again, Rygdea didn't know how to reply. Now he was sure he was definitely a little red, though hopefully his lazily unshaved face was hiding most of that. “Yeah yeah, keep trying to butter me up,” he said, shoving a bishop across the board. “It's not getting you in my pants.”

Rygdea looked up to see Raines giving him a blank look before bursting into laughter. “You're funny,” he said after he was done, wiping one eye with a finger. “I like you, Rygdea.”

And somehow, the way he said that was a thousand times more embarrassing than any innuendos he could possibly have made.

x x x

Raines was a busy man, so there were often long stretches of time when he didn't have time for chess. Which was fine. After his promotion, Rygdea was busy as hell himself, and he didn't have the time for much of anything.

Unsurprisingly, Raines had basically zero personal life. He never said so directly, but it didn't seem like he had any friends or romantic partners, and he never mentioned his family, either. It was possible (and likely) that he was simply a very private man, but Rygdea did get the strong impression that he might be the only person Raines ever spent time with casually.

Rygdea was certain that part of it was an attempt to gain his trust. When they'd first met, Raines had begun with vague and abstract discussion about political ideals, everything carefully veiled in plausible deniability. He spoke in the careful manner of a politician, as if he knew every word could be used against him. But then before long, he was sharing with Rygdea plans that bordered on sedition, followed up with explicit intent of actual sedition.

Raines was drawing him in so fast, Rygdea was looking for the trap. He assumed Raines had secured some dirt on him as collateral, but when he pressed for it, Raines denied everything. Rygdea had been very careful in how he conducted himself with his superior, never offering more than Raines did. If it all came crashing down, Rygdea could say he was just following orders.

Rygdea even said as much to Raines, who then laughed. “That's fine. I'll take the fall,” he said, which just made Rygdea even more suspicious.

It seemed like Raines trusted him too much.

If Rygdea were so inclined, he could take this information to Raines' political rivals to seek influence there. He figured Raines was trying to keep him close by offering personal friendship in addition to an alliance of values. Maybe he actually played chess with all his close political associates, though considering everything he had on his plate, Rygdea couldn't imagine he had the time.

And when it came to having no personal life, it wasn't like Rygdea was any different. Not in the sense that he was ambitious—exactly the opposite. All he'd ever given a damn about, the very reason he'd joined the military, was flying. He'd thrown himself into pilot training and ignored everything else for years. As an officer, he got far less time to do that, but there were new responsibilities to handle now, groundwork to lay with the secret plans Raines laid out to him on how they would oppose the Sanctum. Rygdea had never been one for politics, but he was sure as hell getting a crash course in that, these days.

He knew he wasn't cut out for command. He was too disorganized, not strict enough, he didn't know what he was doing. The men didn't really respect him. He felt like he was flying by the seat of his pants, most days, and he often thought about backing out. He didn't think Raines would retaliate, if Rygdea sought to leave the military. He wasn't sure how Raines would react at all, actually. His read on the man continued to be a series of question marks.

But backing out wasn't an option, even though that was the obvious, rational choice. Maybe Raines had just gotten to him. Rygdea felt himself half-believing that maybe this could actually pan out. If anyone could actually pull off revolution, it was Raines. The man was absolutely inhuman.

And being inhuman, he also kept an inhumanly busy schedule. He seemingly booked himself for every minute of the day, fitting in more activity than Rygdea would think possible. When Raines didn't have time to invite Rygdea over to his apartment to discuss things, he would summon Rygdea whenever he had a spare moment—after a meeting or before an inspection or during a lunch break—to share information with him before briskly continuing with his day.

And that day, that spare moment happened to be after Raines' workout at his private gym.

At his rank, Raines was not required to stay in shape, but of course, _of course_ an absolute perfectionist like him would never let his fitness slide. When Rygdea walked in the gym door, he was greeted by the sight of Raines' sculpted back streaked with lines of sweat as he cranked out slow pull-ups with perfect form. Then without even stopping, he started saying something that sounded like _I've been waiting for you, Rygdea, why don't you come join me and we can [something something something]..._ Fuck, his voice didn't even sound strained.

It was a good thirty seconds before Rygdea's brain caught up and he realized Raines was in fact talking about PSICOM's relationship with a certain weapons manufacturer and not the condition of his own private “weapon.”

Running a hand over his face as he cleared his throat to fill the silence, using his other hand for the good ol' hand-in-pocket trick, with great effort, Rygdea managed to formulate a coherent reply. Eventually Raines dropped from the bar and grabbed a sports towel, turning around as he wiped the sweat off his face, slicking his damp hair back. The gesture revealed more of his face, giving him a startlingly different look from usual—certainly more masculine.

Distracted, Rygdea foolishly ran his mouth. “So even the flawless Adonis has a couple little wrinkles,” he said, gesturing to Raines' forehead, which had revealed the faint lines of baby wrinkles. Maybe all the recent politicking was stressing him out—though he clearly didn't show it. “Why not style your hair back? Maybe you'd get more respect from the old farts in Edenhall if you aged yourself up a little.”

Raines gave him a wry smile as he toweled his neck. “Am I not allowed a little vanity?” he replied, tone light.

“Wrinkles give a man a bit of flavor,” Rygdea shot back. “I bet your dad's a handsome guy.” As soon as those words were out of his mouth, he immediately regretted it. Did that make it sound like he wanted to fuck Raines' dad? Yes, it did. Definitely. “Genetics, you know, a face like yours looks better with age...” he babbled on, not covering for himself well at all. Ugh. It would be best to just shut his mouth. Why did he only ever act like an idiot like this around Raines? He was just intimidating like that, his aura made you stupid.

But Raines' reaction was surprising. He turned away and toweled his head, and when he turned back to Rygdea again, his mussed bangs were hanging over his forehead, and his expression was carefully neutral. “I'm told I more resemble my mother,” was all he said, and before Rygdea could formulate a reply, Raines had rushed off, presumably to have a five-minute shower and make an afternoon meeting.

x x x

The first thing Rygdea did when he came home to his apartment late that night was, as always, take off his pants and throw them over the coat rack.

Rygdea probably spent barely more time at home than Raines did, but their living spaces couldn't be more different—Rygdea's was bad enough that he couldn't even excuse himself with something like “Look, I'm a bachelor, what can you do”—you'd think military discipline would teach you to pick your goddamn laundry off the floor, but generally, unless a drill sergeant was barking at him, Rygdea would not lift a finger to clean, and he would far rather do a hundred pushups than tidy his apartment, anyway.

Opening up the fridge, he grabbed a bottled nutritional drink and a beer, carting them over to his computer desk—which was covered with empty bottles and the detritus of ready-made meals—and plopping himself down to do some research.

Not real research, of course. He wasn't looking for state secrets today, and he sure as hell wouldn't be doing that from his home computer.

No, he was just looking at publicly-available news articles and records. He really should have done this a long time ago. Why hadn't he? Raines had to know everything about _him_. It was only the smart thing to do to find Raines' dirt in return. Information was power.

He didn't even have to go back that far to see news articles about Mr. Ashleigh Raines, businessman and Edenhall councilman—the speculation, the corruption scandal, and then finally, the arrest. Probably, this was something most politically-aware people already knew about—it had just happened around the time Rygdea had been in the Academy spending eighteen hours a day on study and flight simulators, so he'd had no clue.

__

The arrest, it said, had been made by the newly-promoted Captain Cid Raines—notable, because this was out of his jurisdiction, as an officer in The Cavalry. Usually, the Guardian Corps would be handling civilian arrests. The tabloids had really eaten this one up for the family drama. The Raines family were wealthy and influential, one of those families that churned out multiple generations of politicians.

__

“ _How do you feel, placing your own father under arrest?”_ one interviewer had asked. _“Surely, you must feel some hesitation.”_

__

“ _Exactly the opposite,”_ Raines replied. _“I see it as my duty to take responsibility for the actions of my family, and to be impartial in all political matters.”_

__

Swivelling around in his chair, Rygdea kicked his bare feet up on his desk and tossed back a mouthful of his bland-tasting nutritional drink before chasing it with beer. “You resemble your mother more, huh?” he muttered to no one in particular, toying with the near-empty beer can in his hand. “So is she flawless and beautiful, too?”

__

Reading over the article interview again, something hungry crawled up from Rygdea's stomach, so he chugged the rest of the nutritional drink.

__

The nutritional drink didn't quench that hunger. The beer quieted it a bit, though.

__

x x x

__

“I told you, you've already lost the game,” Raines said smugly as he leaned back in his chair across the chess board. His lips hadn't moved, but there was a subtle smile twinkling in his eyes, the sort that Rygdea was certain most people wouldn't notice.

__

He was noticing a lot of things about Raines, these days. He was absolutely neurotic, for one—he kept a spare change of clothes at hand at all times in case he spilled even a drop on anything. He scheduled everything weeks in advance and wouldn't allow even the slightest change. He was weirdly terrible at pouring drinks, and spilled some on the counter every time—and then he'd smack the counter in annoyance and immediately wipe it up, folding the paper towel up carefully before placing it in the compost bin. If Rygdea was ever late to an appointment, he would be passive-aggressively angry the whole time and then deny it, and that one time one of his airships crashed due to multiple maintenance errors, he continued to bring it up in conversation for _months_ afterward. Rygdea was certain he would never let that one go, ever.

__

And when they played chess, he would always annoyingly press Rygdea to resign long before he was ready.

__

“It's not over until it's over,” Rygdea said with a scowl, leaning forward with folded arms as he glared at the pieces.

__

“Part of skill in chess is knowing when to call it quits. You have a tendency to play losing games.”

__

“I wouldn't be losing if you would shut your mouth, for once!” Rygdea snapped, but Raines only responded with a chuckle before falling silent.

__

At this point, Rygdea was onto his tricks. Raines wasn't actually _that_ great of a chess player, though he'd certainly seemed that way when Rygdea had been a total amateur. He was very good at distracting you, though, with conversation, with the placement of the table putting the sun in your eyes (what a goddamn classic military move) or by picking a time when Rygdea was hungry and then warming up some food in the kitchen that he never let Rygdea eat—the man was actually fucking _devious,_ though he denied all of Rygdea's accusations.

__

Still, though, even being aware of all Raines' tricks, Rygdea basically always lost. And when this game finally came to the expected close as well, Rygdea just sighed and leaned back in his chair, returning Raines' self-satisfied smile with a dirty look. “You don't get to be smug about beating a dumb guy like _me._ Find yourself some grandmaster to beat, then you can get cocky about it.”

__

Raines frowned. “What gives you the idea that you're stupid?” he said, sounding utterly sincere.

__

“C'mon, you've seen all my records. You know what my grades were like at the Academy.” Rygdea waved a dismissive hand.

__

“Rygdea,” Raines replied as he began putting away the chess pieces. “I didn't simply look at your attendance records or test scores. I'm aware that several instructors made it their personal mission to sabotage your career for attempting to expose their own wrongdoing. You haven't ever thought to go look back to see what's happened to Sergeant Rofenthall or Lieutenant Marun?”

__

Rygdea's mouth fell open as he stared at Raines. He _never_ talked about that with anyone.

__

After flicking a glance over at him, Raines lowered his gaze to the board again and continued his task, tucking each glass piece into its individual padded section in the piece box. “You could have informed me, your superior officer, about those men, at any time. But you didn't. Why?”

__

Rygdea's mouth opened and closed silently a moment before he finally managed to reply. “Ah-ha...” he said, rubbing the back of his head with one hand. “Why would I drag you into my personal business? You've got bigger fish to fry than some Academy sergeant who was letting students buy their test scores.”

__

Raines didn't reply right away, and when Rygdea sneaked a look over at him, was surprised to see a faint smile on his face. “You always place others over yourself like that, even when it costs you. I saw that when I looked over your records and investigated your background...I knew you were the kind of man I needed at my side. You're selfless. That's one of the things I like about you.”

__

Rygdea scratched his cheek, using the gesture to hide his face with his hand. He couldn't manage a reply.

__

x x x

__

Rygdea and Raines' relationship maintained a precarious balance—or that was how Rygdea thought of it, anyway. He would fully admit his lust to himself, but he also took the time to vent it elsewhere, in appropriate avenues that were not blatant fraternization with your superior officer.

__

And he'd kind of come to expect that Raines would draw that line too—either out of ethics or lack of interest, Rygdea couldn't say.

__

So he was surprised when Raines invited him up to his apartment one particular night and there were no chess pieces on the table, but instead a bottle and a couple of glasses.

__

Rygdea raised an eyebrow at him, but Raines seemed to ignore it. He pushed the bottle toward Rygdea—the sort of fancy champagne that Rygdea's paycheck couldn't hope to cover—as if an admission that he was bound to spill some if he were the one to pour it.

__

When Raines pushed the bottle over, Rygdea noticed that he was wearing gloves. This wasn't anything odd—gloves were part of the military uniform, and Raines often wore them. He usually took them off at home, though, so it was odd that he had them on now.

__

After a moment of hesitation, Rygdea sat down opposite him, picking up the corkscrew to open up the bottle wordlessly and pour them both drinks.

__

Raines accepted his drink, raising it in a silent toast. Then he finished off the glass in two gulps, without enjoying the flavor at all.

__

Not knowing what to say and feeling like he had to keep up, Rygdea finished his own drink and poured them both more.

__

They drank in silence like that for an immeasurable amount of time. The big bay window of Raines' apartment let the artificial sunset dye the whole apartment red, until it slowly darkened to night and the lights of the nighttime city began to shine.

__

Raines was particularly beautiful under the red glow. But he was even more beautiful in the darkness of night. He was like a marble statue of some legendary hero—flawless, untouchable. Moments like this, Rygdea really did believe that Raines could make every single naive ideal a reality. He had the military competence, the personality charm, the quick wits, the pure heart—he was everything.

__

Sometimes, Rygdea wasn't sure if he wanted Raines, or wanted to _be_ Raines.

__

There were only two lights on in the apartment: a faint glow coming from where the bedroom door was cracked open, and the dim light of the kitchen stove behind them, over the kitchen island.

__

The bottle was soon emptied, and the two of them sat there in silence in the dark—Raines looking at his lap, his back to the window, and Rygdea looking over his shoulder, at the city lights outside.

__

Rygdea didn't ask what this was about.

__

Eventually, Raines cleared his throat and said, entirely out of the blue, “I've taken the office of Brigadier-General.”

__

Rygdea raised an eyebrow at him. “Surprising no one. Congratulations.”

__

Raines didn't seem pleased to hear Rygdea's congratulations, though. “Yes. Congratulations to me,” he muttered to himself, rubbing the back of his gloved right hand with his left. He was silent for another long moment before opening his mouth again, this time, to talk about something entirely different.

__

“It's no secret that my family is very wealthy and influential,” he said, turning sideways in his chair to follow Rygdea's gaze out the window. “I'm sure you're aware that my father was a member of the legislature in Edenhall, as was my grandfather...I was raised for office.”

__

“Yeah,” Rygdea said with a nod, his voice sounding weird after such a long silence.

__

“My family has...very high standards. Image is everything to a politician, after all. My mother was an actress. She knew all about cultivating a media image, how to be loved...”

__

That wording made Rygdea's hand tense on the stem of his empty wine glass. “Sounds like you got the perfect education.”

__

“I did,” Raines turned around to smile at him. “I became an incredibly good actor.”

__

“An actor?” Rygdea asked back, not grasping what Raines meant.

__

But Raines just shook his head and turned to look out the window again. “I made every effort to distance myself from my father's scandals. I was so intent on proving myself back then, showing the public I was absolutely clean and upstanding. I naively almost made myself believe I was, as opposed to simply bad at playing political games.”

__

Rygdea snorted. “You? Bad at playing politics? Excuse me?”

__

Raines turned to give him a crooked smile and a sidelong glance. “There's a reason I chose the military instead of the legislature. ...Though I believe you would do well in politics. You're sharp with people.”

__

“Me, a politician?” Rygdea barked a laugh. “I'm just a soldier.”

__

Raines shook his head again. “You're already deep in politics, deeper than me. Don't underrate yourself.” He rearranged his gloved hands on the table before continuing, “When I told my father I wanted to go into the military, he said to me...it's the job of a soldier to get their hands dirty, and the job of a politician to hide their dirty hands. I wonder which I am, these days.” He was rubbing his right hand again, drawing Rygdea's eyes to his long, slender fingers.

__

“You seem pretty clean to me,” Rygdea muttered, eyes dropping to his empty glass.

__

There was a loud scrape, startling Rygdea, and he looked up to see Raines had stood from his chair. “Want to see something, Rygdea?” And then he jerked his head over to the left, beckoning Rygdea out of his seat.

__

Rygdea followed Raines back up the hall to the door that was left cracked-open, the pale glow seeping out through the crack. Raines' bedroom.

__

Raines gave the door a little push, and it creaked open all the way to reveal a spacious bedroom.

__

And it was an absolute mess. Clothes on the floor, thrown over the closet door and the chair in the corner, a whole stack of old-style paper books that should have been on a shelf, energy bar wrappers and instant meal packets on the floor. There was more on the bed, too—it looked like Raines ate in bed, the heathen, with a whole collection of cups on the bedside table, and the sheets on the bed did not match. And rather than the sort of fancy bedspread you might expect, it looked like Raines slept with a ratty old quilt.

__

“...You could hire a maid,” Rygdea said after a moment of stunned silence.

__

“I do,” Raines said, stepping through the bedroom door, walking over the trash to sit down on the corner of the bed. “But I don't allow them in here.”

__

Standing in the doorway of Raines' bedroom, Rygdea's heart raced. Raines was leaning his forearms on his thighs, looking up at him from under his long bangs in a way that he never had before.

__

“...You gotta be careful about who you invite in, after all,” Rygdea made an effort to keep his tone light.

__

“Yes,” Raines said slowly, his eyes locked on Rygdea's. “You do.”

__

Rygdea shuffled his feet in place and swallowed.

__

Raines was still looking right at him. “Do you trust me, Rygdea?”

__

Rygdea opened his mouth, ran a hand through his hair. After a long silence, he answered honestly, “I don't know.”

__

Maybe he'd just been burned too many times—by his own brothers, then at the Academy, during his career before joining the Cavalry. He'd seen dirt right, left and center, and been screwed over and over. He kind of believed that everyone was dirty, at the end of it all.

__

Maybe not Raines, though.

__

“You shouldn't, though.” Raines' reply was surprisingly sharp and bitter.

__

“I—”

__

“Rygdea.” Raines cut him off, then licked his lips as if he found them dry. Rygdea's eyes followed every single movement of his tongue, as if in slow motion. “I've never been as good as you think I am. And I'm certainly not, now.”

__

“What're you talking about?” Rygdea shot back, and his voice sounded a little shrill to himself. His mind wasn't keeping up with this conversation. He was usually so good at keeping his cool.

__

“Rygdea.” Raines paused a long moment, biting his lip slightly before releasing it. “Let's forget everything. This whole plan has been nothing but a fool's errand. I should never have thought to overthrow the Sanctum—I'm delusional, it's all just been delusions of grandeur and self-aggrandizing pretensions to—”

__

Rygdea stepped forward and cut him off with a slap in the face. His heart was in his throat, pounding with a rage he'd never known before. He grabbed Raines by the collar of his dress shirt and heaved him to his feet so he could hiss right in Raines' face. “You don't get to fucking say that, not now, not after all these years and all the progress we've made. You're telling me you're just a good actor? Then keep putting on a show for everyone. You're going to play Brigadier-General Cid Raines until the very end.”

__

Rygdea did not expect Raines' response to be to kiss him.

__

The grip of Raines' hands on his shoulders was painfully tight and hot, the lips moving against his own even hotter. Raines made a weak, mewling sound deep in his throat and pressed himself into Rygdea, walking him backward until Rygdea's back hit the wall and Raines was pressing him against it—Raines' hipbones ground against his own, and for a moment, all Rygdea could think about was Raines' tongue sinking into his mouth.

__

When Raines' lips finally released him to travel down his neck instead, Rygdea was left gasping, his head full of disconnected, incoherent thoughts that wouldn't lead into action.

__

“I love you,” Raines murmured into his collarbone, and his voice sounded so fragile and weak, it was like another person. “That's the only thing that matters to me now.”

__

Rygdea didn't even think about it. He shoved Raines back—Raines staggered back drunkenly without resistance. Who would have thought such a tall guy would be such a lightweight. “Once you're sobered up,” Rygdea snapped at him as he stepped away from the wall, wiping the back of his hand over his spit-slick lips, “you'll get over this. I know Brigadier-General Cid Raines would never pressure a subordinate into fraternization.” The words came out far harsher than he'd meant them. Only after they were out did Rygdea realize how furious he was—at this betrayal of their unspoken agreement, of everything that meant anything to the both of them.

__

Rygdea made the mistake of looking at Raines' eyes for a moment, and that instant, he was certain he saw something break irreversibly.

__

“...Of course.” Raines' posture straightened, and he turned away. “I apologize. I haven't been myself tonight. Forget this ever happened.”

__

“I will,” Rygdea said, then stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

__

x x x

__

When he got home, Rygdea went straight to the fridge without taking his pants off, downed three beers in quick succession, curled up in bed and passed out with his clothes still on.

__

Then after that, everything went back to the way it had been.

__

They'd been pretty drunk that night, anyway. Raines had probably forgotten the whole thing.

__

x x x

__

Rygdea thought—no, he _knew—_ that he'd never really understood Raines until after his death.

__

Rygdea hadn't been there when they'd carried away Raines' body, inspecting it and interring it in a special quarantine for l'Cie. Frankly, Rygdea didn't want to look at it. And there had been too much going on after that, Raines' private apartment had been left untouched, and it wasn't until everything settled down that Rygdea returned privately to inspect his apartment and deal with his personal effects.

__

Officially speaking, he definitely should have taken a team with him. But this wasn't really official.

__

The apartment was just as he remembered it—practically untouched.

__

Out of habit, Rygdea took his boots off. He'd just feel bad to get the floors dirty.

__

His feet took him on their own to the chess table—the box of pieces was on the shelf underneath the table, and Rygdea pulled it out and sat down, opening it up to absently lay the pieces on the squares on the table—he'd set out half of it before he realized he was laying out the last game he and Raines had played together. Rygdea had gone over this one so many times in his mind, somehow, he'd memorized it.

__

Rygdea had won that game, when Raines had resigned.

__

“ _You've improved a lot,”_ Raines had said. _“You're better than me, now.”_

__

“ _I had a good teacher.”_

__

“ _I'm really not. You're smarter than you give yourself credit for.”_

__

“ _Are you sure you're not just letting me win? I'm not seeing my win, here.”_

__

“ _I know when to quit. You don't. But I like that about you.”_

__

Rygdea finished laying out all the pieces, staring at them. He moved a knight, then a pawn. Playing a game with himself—he tried a few moves, backed up, then tried something else.

__

“You idiot...” He muttered, releasing his grip on the white queen. Raines' queen. “You _fucking_ idiot.”

__

A drop fell on the marble table in front of him. Then another. And another.

__

“You could have won...why did you have to give up so early?”

__

_Do you trust me, Rygdea?_

__

Rygdea had watched the video clips of Raines' battle against Lightning and her friends, had read the documents dispassionately. There had been so much lost, so many dead, this was just another data point to get through, another job to be done as part of the clean up. Rygdea wasn't an emotional person, anyway. If he had been, then he wouldn't have been able to shoot Raines in the heart.

__

Rygdea hadn't been sure back then if he trusted Raines, but now he'd proven beyond a shadow of a doubt that he never had. He'd taken Raines' ascension to the seat of Primarch as a betrayal, and putting a bullet in his chest as a righteous punishment.

__

And he never thought back on the one time Raines had shown him who he really was—or on those flawlessly-acted smiles, or those long-fingered hands, covered by gloves that he never took off again, after that day.

__

Rygdea wanted to scream, but it was caught in his chest, and he had too much self-control for outbursts like that. There was still another corner of his mind that stood separate, looking down at himself coolly and preventing him from telling himself any convenient lies about what had happened, about Raines, about what their relationship had been, and about what Rygdea had done.

__

Denial would only lead to mistakes, as Raines had said himself.

__

Rygdea had always been braced for a betrayal from Raines. But Rygdea had been the real traitor, in the end.

__

When Rygdea was done crying, he tucked away the box of chess pieces in his own bag to take home before covering the rest of the apartment. His first act of corruption in his new position—this was certainly supposed to go to Raines' next of kin, but Rygdea didn't feel like giving it up.

__

Rygdea looked at his hands. There was dirt under his fingernails. “Maybe I'll start wearing gloves on the regular,” he muttered to himself.

__

x x x

__

Rygdea didn't dream about killing Raines _every_ night. Just most nights.

__

There was treatment for that, of course. Medication, and a psychological course. All soldiers were well-informed on the topic, due to the nature of the job.

__

Rygdea didn't want the treatment, though. Not because of “blah blah I'm too strong and manly to need that,” though it wasn't like he couldn't relate to such feelings.

__

Frankly, he just thought he deserved it. And he was good at operating on little sleep, anyway.

__

Sometimes, flashbacks would edge into regular dreams, and Raines would say other things. _I want you to be the one to end it. Only you. End it for me, Rygdea._ And instead of having his eyes closed, facing away, Raines was pressing him against a wall, looking him in the eye and begging.

__

If he was tired enough, he wouldn't dream at all, though. And there was plenty of work to keep him busy—picking up the pieces of the Cavalry and PSICOM, trying to put together a provisional government to get Cocoon back on its feet.

__

Only now that he had been forced into a position of high command did he fully understand everything Raines had dealt with—and what Raines' intentions had been.

__

All those games of chess. Those discussions of politics, military strategy, and information on influential governmental figures. The promotions.

__

Raines' intention had been to make Rygdea his successor.

__

It was absolutely comical, in hindsight. How the hell did someone like Raines think that Rygdea could pick up the slack from him? He'd never been good at chess, all that planning and foresight—he flew by the seat of his pants most of the time, and he certainly didn't know what the hell he was doing now, taking charge of the Cavalry.

__

Sitting at his desk in his office in the Cavalry's main cruiser, eyes glazing over as he stared at the holo screen—a _sickening_ amount of this job was just bureaucratic nonsense, meetings and verifying documents—Rygdea yawned and reached out for his long-since cold coffee, tossing back the remainder of the cup.

__

There was a knock at the door, and Rygdea called out, “Come in.” He straightened his posture, making himself look crisp and alert instead of absolutely drained and exhausted to greet the soldier that stepped in. Maybe he'd never surpassed Raines in chess, but at least he had a decent poker face.

__

The soldier stepped in and saluted. “Sir. ...Brigadier-General,” he added after a moment of hesitation, like he wasn't sure how to address Rygdea. Well, that was no surprise. Every commanding officer between Raines and Rygdea had been killed, and Rygdea had been thrust into this position very suddenly, taking command of the Cavalry as well as what remained of the PSICOM forces.

__

“I'm still just a Captain,” Rygdea informed him. “We only have one Brigadier-General.”

__

The look on the soldier's face shifted slightly, but he kept a stiff upper lip. Raines had been highly-respected among the Cavalry, and the news of his death was still fresh in their minds.

__

“Yes sir, Captain!” the soldier replied.

__

“Let's hear your report,” Rygdea leaned back, hands peaked in a triangle on the desk in front of him.

__

He knew he wasn't worthy of this position, and he didn't have any confidence that he could make anything work out—he'd just have to fake it, to learn to be a good actor, to go in with a shit hand determined to win.

__

Raines had said he liked that about him, after all.

__

And for the times he'd betrayed Raines.

__

From this day forward, he would always be loyal.

__

**Author's Note:**

> The other day on reddit I saw someone use the term "heros" (hero+eros) to describe the feeling of idolatry-slash-lust, the feeling of, "do I want him, or do I want to be him?" and I thought: I have to finish this fanfic.


End file.
